I almost don't recognise the figure who steps back over the threshold of the bedchamber, don't recognise, try not to, the visceral raw rage and venom and pain on Jin's features. Silently put a face to the ugliest, darkest emotions inside myself. This is how they look manifested. This is how they look scoured deep into features I've only ever received love and tenderness from.

I almost don't recognise them. But there's no denying how much the sight of them yanks pain and agony never truly suppressed or forgotten. An anguish that bears down with my very existence.

And yet... Jin's only ever been comfort. Even from the beginning when I first knew him, met him—there was something inexplicably gentle in his imposing frame. Something warm and tender hidden under layers of initially luxury clothes and stiff etiquette—something that had melted and given way to the sweetness I'd treasured and adored him for, for years of my life.

And right now the same warmth has been hardened to ice, yet it dissolves before my eyes. A chilling numbness that thaws as he steps inwards and lets the outside world, its horrors, pains and torments fall away and lie discarded beyond his front door.

And relief clings to him when his eyes meet mine, weariness won over by a deeper, wilder and exhilarated myriad of emotions.

The relief promises freedom and I know even without asking that everything...everything is going to be okay.

Jin leans against the doorway, tugging off his outer layers with a firmness, almost tearing the fastings and laces in his haste to shed his cloak, his coat.

Drawing off the outside from his body, peeling away whatever happened and letting it fall to the floor.

Tired but burning eyes meet mine. Shining with a fierce intensity.

Beside me, Tae's body stiffens; searching his brother, the caginess bleeding out his posture as he sags, the arm curled tight around my waist loosens, unravels before a shaky kiss presses to my nape.

It's all over. It's all over. It's all okay.

"It's done?" Voice a low shaky rasp. Rough and trembling.

I feel the weight of his question bear down on me.

Feel it cling to every particle of air.

"Lim's gone. She can't hurt anyone again... not you (Y/N), not Jimin, she can't do anything anymore." Jin begins, voice lighter and shaky with relief, eyes holding anguish for the near decade he saw us suffer, for the near decade he endured seeing countless people hurt and only ever able to help to an extent. Never able to do more than to soothe our physical pains.

"Never?" my voice trembles.

"Never... Lim's going to pay for everything she's done... and bit by bit, everyone's going to be freed, no-one needs to hurt the way you two did. No one ever will." he promises, voice soft and quiet, eyes shining with unshed tears he hasn't dared let spill beyond the confines of his house but now well up in his waterline, spill over blanched cheeks as he sniffles, hurrying forward to tug me to him, arms wrapped tight with the fierce protectiveness of his embrace.

Shoulders curving inwards and hands gripping me, cradling me a bow and refusal to let go.

Something both fragile and undeniably strong and unwavering in how he holds me to him, body melding to mine with a desperation, a relief that seeps off his body and sinks comfortingly into my own.

"It's over... it's all over." he whispers into my hair, feeling my own arms wrap around him, clinging with feverish, overwhelming bliss that makes my body tremble with it.

"It's over?" my voice echoes and when I tilt my head up to peer at Jin, it's to see his eyes burning brightly as he nods, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks, trembling lips pressing to my temple, to my hairline in soft, shaky pecks.

"All over. You're not going back. You're free sweetheart. Free." He whispers, a hushed giddy secret that seems almost impossible to indulge in, to believe, softly murmured as if saying it too loudly will destroy the fragile tendrils of newly blooming hope and optimism.

Free.

And now... now I had the rest of my life to learn how freedom felt like.

What it was like to wake up and not have an eternity within a day, the repetitive cycle of constantly selling myself.

Freedom meant I could have the lazy lie-ins with Tae and drag him back because there was no panic or fear of getting caught.

Freedom meant I didn't need to be terrified by the uncertainty of every day.

Freedom meant I wasn't in the cage anymore.

It meant that broken and damaged as I was, I could still try to fly; wings torn and ruined by Lim but forged anew, stronger with the promise that she no longer had a trap to capture me in, that I could have a tomorrow and a tomorrow beyond that relishing in the mundane.

And even if I plummeted... even if I didn't know what mundane was, even if it wasn't normal, I wouldn't freefall.

And the net that would catch me was far, far different than the net that trapped me.

Kept me captive and enslaved to servicing people for their depraved pleasures. All with the desperation of one day... one day maybe I'd have a life, where I could make a decision that was solely mine.

Sing little bird, sing. You're going to earn me a very pretty price.

I didn't... I didn't have to sing anymore, body curling for the refuge and safety of Jin's arms that I've always sought, throat raw from begging and pleading for a mercy never given. Screaming till my throat gave out, until sobs became broken and I had no more breath left to do what Lim so desired me to do with every service. Sing.

Sing little bird, sing inside your pretty cage.

I wasn't trapped in the cage anymore. I had a home, I had a future with Tae, surrounded by the people I loved and I wasn't trapped anymore. It was all done. I was free.

Free.

You need to be the devil's whore... need to be the untouched flower, the flightless bird...

I only needed to be myself, I could learn to be myself. I just wanted to be me, wanted to be (Y/N), wanted to be the other half of the soul I shared with Jimin and Tae's jewel. I wanted to be me and not the labels or roles

Oh you look darling all marked—there's countless men and women alike who'll pay for used goods.

And Tae... Tae had been the one to get me medicine, get me payback and made the Pastor pay. He'd been the one to first meet me at one of my lowest, at one of my most broken and damaged and he'd been the one to take the step to right his wrongs and go a step beyond that and right the wrong of a man who paraded himself as one thing but in reality was devil's incarnate.

And Tae... I had forever with Tae now.

I had forever.

The plan had worked, nothing had gone wrong.

Everything was going to be okay... it was all going to work out.

And when Jin's arms unwind, loosen slightly, it's to reach to drag Tae forward, eyes blurry with tears and he lets himself be tugged and manoeuvred close. Eyes soft and drowning with the same relief, shiny and lips trembling as he clutches at Jin.

For the first time since I've known both, seeing them embrace.

See how Tae readily folds himself into the embrace even as I slowly draw away, smile wavering as I watch two brothers, torn apart by family finally hold each other.

See that despite being grown and strong and fierce in their own rights; both Jin and Tae have been deprived that want to be close, both had been raised apart, grown apart.

And whilst Jin had undisguised yearning in his eyes whenever he'd seen Tae, Tae's own gaze had been nothing but hardened from a lifetime of knowing he didn't belong—so he carved his own way, his own place.

And now... Tae clings to Jin and lets himself be held, lets himself feel smaller, be smaller, arms wrapped tight and his form almost swallowed by the protective, encompassing broadness of Jin's frame wrapping around his.

Eyes clenching shut as if committing the memory, the sight burn itself across the inside of his eyes.

It's going to be okay... one day it's going to be okay for them too.

And my heart aches with yearning for Mimi, to know he's okay, to share it with him. But he hadn't left with Jin, had left with Joon with no mention of where he was going, arms folded tightly around me, body stiff and eyes full of unspoken words he wouldn't divulge.

When Mimi had left he'd been antsy, cagey within his own body, arms almost unwilling to unfurl around me and eyes burning with a resolve; glinting with vows and promises and a fretting, restless urge to his entire demeanour.

I wanted Mimi back, I wanted to tell him, wanted to share the news with him.

But I didn't know where he'd gone.

Didn't know whether he was doing something that was a part of the larger plan Tae had been weaving, or whether he'd needed time and space without his quietening anger flaring to life again. I didn't know whether he'd left to do something or because there was a hard, gleaming anger that sharpened his features whenever he saw Tae. Maybe he'd needed a break, maybe he'd needed time.

And selfishly... I still wanted to see him. And still I wanted to tell him, wanted to erase the hurt and anguish from his face, wanted him to know he didn't need to hurt.

I wanted to erase the look of his world falling apart when he realised I wasn't free.

And I draw back, eyes stinging with happy tears as I watch the two brothers embrace, catch the hushed murmurs and the quiet contentment of Tae finally seeing he could rely on his older brother.

That his older brother wasn't his father.

Wouldn't turn away and shun him. Wouldn't abandon and estrange him.

As I draw out into the hallway, I let my feet guide me down the familiar hallways—slipping into the drawing room instead, sinking down onto the armchair, arms curved around me and eyes drifting to the grandfather clock. Eyeing the time ticking away, pendulum swinging and waiting, willing Mimi to come back.

There's something isolating about being alone now.

Something that I'd not truly been for the past ten years.

At the brothel, I'd always, always had Mimi—no matter how long the appointments were, how long it took us from each other, it was habit; familiar and comforting and safe to seek each other out in the moments of reprieve in between.

And then Jin had come into our lives and slowly, slowly our lives had started to gain more people beyond the three of us. Beyond the inexplicable safety of each other... we'd found people to call friends, we'd found people outside the glorified cage we'd been living in and found they didn't care for the inked insignia stamped across our ankles. Didn't see it as reason to turn us away, to scorn or mock or pity. We hadn't been turned away, we'd been readily accepted into their lives and they into ours, and there'd never been anything but comfort and trust and warmth.

And even though the appointments had slowly chipped at me, broke me, hurt me, there'd always been an ironclad wall of support, a safety net that only strengthened and secured further with time rather than fraying.

And they'd saved me, saved Mimi time and time again by allowing us normalcy, allowing us refuge in friendship.

Being alone was a concept, a terrifying notion I didn't even know how to begin to entertain. The fortnight without Mimi with me had already alerted me to how isolating and confining life was without him, to have no-one to sink desperately, relievedly into after an appointment, to find comfort and reassurance and understanding without jealousy, anger or bitterness.

Two weeks had taught me that Mimi had been a shelter and home; had reinforced it over and over.

And as if summoned by thought, drawn to materiality by my mind and heart's yearning ache, the sound of slow footsteps slowly stirring me from my thoughts, from the loneliness of the large drawing room that for once just doesn't soothe in the way it always has.

And when my eyes trail upwards, my body jerks forward, a soft sound slipping past my lips as I stare at him standing in the doorway, eyes shadowed and body weary, jolting out of the armchair and rushing forward to him.

Hands clinging to his arms desperately, eyes roving over him and flinching when my eyes catch onto the blood splattering his clothes and skin, the broken skin of his bruising knuckles and the drowning waves of tumultuous emotion warring in his eyes.

He goes still under my touch, eyes holding mine unwaveringly and the corner of his lips tremble as he tries to dredge up a smile but fails. Face crumpling; features shattering under my eyes as I watch him.

"Mimi..."

"Can you just hold me?" his voice cracks, hushed and miserable and aching, conflicting emotions flitting across his face, standing stiffly even if his body aches to curve forward and fall into the safety and shelter of mine.

There's not a single instant's hesitation when my hands curl tighter around his arms and tug him forward, dropping to wrap around his waist and hold him as he slumps.

Clutching at me tightly as he sinks against me, arms winding around me as he brackets my body with his, tension still stiffly locking every limb even as he clings to me.

"Mimi what's wrong?" my voice is quiet and hushes, lips pressing to his temple.

"...nothing. Nothing's wrong. Just want you close. Don't want to let go." He confesses.

I never want to let you go either. I won't.

And together we stand, wrapped up in each other, clutching fiercely with a desperation he doesn't yet speak about but can be felt in his every limb, in the way his body moulds to mine; frantic to try meld us together.

Because not even the slightest distance is acceptable... not the slightest distance is bearable.

When I draw away, a broken sob leaves his throat, grip tightening reflexively.

But I don't move away, heart splintering when his eyes plead at me to stay, breath rushing out shakily when my fingers cup his cheek, drifting to brush against the smear of red when his hand unfurls from around me and darts to catch my hand; stilling it before it can make contact.

Grip bruising and tight and unrelenting.

"Don't. Don't dirty your hands." the words hissed and sharp, a fierce edge to it.

"Mimi what..." I begin.

He shakes his head.

"Need to... need to wash it off... don't touch it, don't dirty your fingers."

And his fingers remain encircled around my wrist, lowers my hand from his face and away from the stains marring his clothes.

"We'll wash it off... baby we'll wash it off." I murmur, heart aching at how sharply he makes sure that my fingers don't even accidentally graze the incriminating crimson, nodding shakily as he steps back, one step, two steps, three steps; drawing me alongside him, eyes still holding mine.

Still watching me as I take his hand and steer him towards the downstairs bathing chamber, door closing quietly behind us.

There's an echoing familiarity of the space; clean and carefully maintained and baskets of tonics and treatments lining the walls, alongside countless products.

It draws the ghost of a smile to my face when Mimi's hand reaches to pluck a familiar scent, one so alike to the one Jin uses at the centre but from first glance alone it's immediately distinguishable as his. As ones he'd been working on perfecting.

"I'll get the water heating." I murmur, slowly drawing away when I've carefully steered him to the edge of the large tub, watch him sink down, eyes tracking my every movement with an unwavering need clinging to his frame.

And as I draw a small basin forward, to wash off the blood first before steeping the tub with water, he watches me, eyes softening even if he remains coiled up. Perched stiffly on the edge of the tub, waiting for me.

He sits numbly into the tub once I manoeuvre him out of his clothes, his hands aiding by way of tugging at the red-splattered silk and the ungiving material of his breeches, drawing them off with an impatience that vanishes once he's sat down, silently contemplative and wondering. Going still.

I don't know whose blood mars his skin, eyes raking desperately, feverishly to check for injuries, nauseous concern quietening when I find none. But then my eyes fall to the bruised discolouration of his hands, knuckles darkened and split and the skin angry and mottled deep reds and purples.

And I know the blood on him isn't his... but I still don't know whose, don't know which person faced the brunt of the wrathful anger he'd let out.

His hands sit folded on his drawn up legs, resting daintily despite the violence that stains them and sinks quietly under the reprieve of the warm jugs of water I slowly sluice over him, body tilting slightly to me.

See motion stir his body, see his hands scrub at the dried blood, water tinging pink as it trickles down the drain, a soaked cloth dabbing at skin to remove the smeared stains from his face and throat, careful and featherlight touches skimming across.

And when the blood is washed away, carefully wiped clean off him, basin half-empty, he sinks back against the tub, bare and vulnerable and yet slightly more settled in his own body as he watches me.

"Let's get you warm." I whisper, grateful that in the meantime, the other basins of water have heated that when I slowly lift them up to pour into the tub, the water only brings more and more comfort as he sinks laxly into it, watching the tub fill; the large emptiness no longer isolating and vast.

And yet when he sinks into the reprieve of the scented water; loose dried flowers floating aimlessly on the surface he still watches me, still tilts towards the edge of the tub and extends a dripping hand towards me in implore.

"Clean now... will you let me hold you baby? Can I...?" voice soft and quiet.

Vulnerable and fragile as if every word is suspended on a delicate fine line already fraying, close to snapping.

Safety net. Just as he's mine, I'm his.

And if he wants to fall, it's knowing with confidence he'll be caught, he'll have arms to seek refuge in.

And I'd never deny him of that. Ever.

So when his hand wraps around my wrist and draws me to the tub, I draw off my stockings before his fingers tug a bit more, stepping into the tub, water sloshing and disturbed around the loose skirts that immediately turn sodden; wet fabric clinging and dragging downwards. His hands reaching to steer me onto him, straddling him, wetness seeping through the thin dress and felt through fabric and yet all that matters is the relief palpable across his face when I'm finally close enough once more.

Hands curling round my waist and head pressing to my shoulder.

Silent as my hands wind around his shoulders to entangle my fingers through the sodden tips of his hair, fingers brushing gently across his nape.

But where words aren't what he fills the void with, touches are.

His fingers skim fleetingly at first, brushing across my spine, the splay of his palm moving from my nape to rest on the low of my back, other hand resting on top of soaked skirts.

And slowly the touches turn softer somehow, tender as fingers trail from my skirt to push the fabric up, slick skin against my own, lips brushing kisses across my exposed collarbone, feverish as he presses his mouth to softly peck and mouth at skin; seeking the intimate closeness of touch, of his body cradling mine and finding refuge there.

Palm resting on my thigh and the other slips from my waist to trail upwards, brushing hair back and tugging at the sleeves; at the ties binding them until slowly my clothes loosen and his lips brush slow pecks across my throat and clavicles.

Silently finding reassurance in how my fingers brush across slick skin and rest on his chest, trace the inked letters almost harshly etched into skin, his breath shuddering as I trace him, as he watches me, head turning to rest against my shoulder, exhales warm and trembling against my neck, eyes peering at where my fingers graze tenderly.

Knowing the planes and lines of his body perhaps far more intricately, comfortably and intimately than I'll ever know my own.

"...Am I pretty?"

Voice quiet and subdued, so different to the bubbling richness of his usual lilt.

He sounds lost almost.

"Mimi of course you are." I breathe.

His eyes flare with an urgency, with an unrest.

"Would you still say that if you saw how ugly my emotions can become? If you saw how dirty and inhumane my anger, my hate could make me? Would you call me pretty then?"

My eyes hold his, ignoring the stinging sensation, the discomforting tightness in my chest as my lungs constrict, as he stares at me waiting for me to shun and scorn, waiting and yet pleading for it to never happen.

And when my hands cup his cheeks, he tilts immediately to the touch, eyes fluttering slightly.

Breath rushing out past bitten red lips, abused and worked mercilessly between his teeth, hissing slightly when my thumb brushes over the bottom lip, softly skimming across it.

"I've always loved you, scars and cracks and all Mimi. I will always love you because you and me... we're lost souls...but we found each other. And you found me at my worst, you've seen me at my ugliest; breaking and screaming and wishing for an end... and you made me live. Why would you be anything but the most beautiful soul?" I whisper hushed and soft.

"Even if... even if the blood was... even if the blood's Chul's?" voice wavering and rough.

Eyes watching me carefully.

Waiting almost to be shunned.

My body stills, grip going slightly lax as the name ripples alongside the disturbed slosh of water settling and moving around us.

Chul.

The name, the mention of the man alone brings a heaviness to my limbs, body sinking against his for comfort and because suddenly it feels like my body is weightless, strings snapped. I stare at him with disbelief, eyes slowly trawling the expanse of his body, seeing and envisioning the now phantom stains of red he refused to let me touch, that splattered against his face and the silk of his shirt.

Chul.

It was Chul's blood.

How did their paths even wind up crossing again? How did Chul end up crossing Mimi after he was freed?

Had Mimi been looking for him?

My mind's seared with the image of the vulnerable, shaky implore, the quiet fierceness in his embrace and the burning eyes that had shone with tears as he asked me to hold him.

I remember the same Mimi, a decade younger, slight and small and no better in a place than I was, just as trapped, just as used and vulnerable... and yet he'd taken my hand that day. That day after that hellish night. He'd been there in the aftermath, eyes haunted and plagued and yet tender, soft, quiet voice filling where my wrecked, hoarse one couldn't. Filling the silence when the night prior my screams had shattered it.

Mimi had hurt Chul and had shirked away from wanting my skin to touch the stains left behind, didn't want any part of me to be reminded or tainted by Chul.

Even now... even with the blood smearing skin, even if Chul hadn't been here, he refused to let him taint my life again. He'd kept his promise, he was still keeping his promise.

"If it was Chul's blood... I'm... I'm sorry you had to see him again."

And his eyes blaze, sear with nothing but fierce, fierce protectiveness, arms clutching at me tighter, grip bruising where his hand curls into my thigh and the other at my waist.

Branding me with his touch.

"I have overdue blood debts to pay. For every single scream that night--- he has to give tenfold with interest. For every single second he made you hurt, he must thrash with torment. It's ten years overdue, but I will clear what's owed to you, to me."

There's hard, unwavering strength in his words.

A truth I cannot deny him, nor do I want to.

And a part of me is relieved that still... still I'll never have to see him again.

"I love you Mimi. I love you. I love you and you didn't need to but... but you did and—"

Head tilting to his, foreheads touching and his lips surge up bruising against my own, expressing my silent and inexpressible mix of gratitude and relief. Of fear and terror that clashes and entangles with his suppressed hurt and insecurity, now chased away, with the familiarity of knowing my lips just as well as I know his. No finesse, no delicacy in the relentless sharp bite of the kiss that scours his hurts from his mind and erases a lifetime from my own. There's need in the feverish way his lips scorch and meld to mine, teeth sinking into my lip and tugging, tongue roving and pressing for entrance, swift and deep as it curls against mine, thrusts past the parting invite of my lips surrendering to his. Gripping at him tightly as he clings to me. Desperately brands himself once more into every crevice and fibre of me with the inferno of heat and plea in the way his breath shudders and his quiet whimper is swallowed by me. His weakness always accepted and protected by me, shielded from sight from anyone else to see. There's nothing ugly about him, about my protector, about my other half, forged from the same fire and desperation to live, carved by the same sword that condemned him to his fate and me to mine. He's imperfect and healing and broken in parts only I'll ever know and understand but he's healing, he's fixing, he's reforging himself anew. His lips plead for an eternity of that love and understanding and my own vow it as they press back just as fervently, oaths that go beyond flesh and blood silently promised in the way my lips meld to his, give back just as much I take and let him because a part of me will always, always be ours.

And words will never be enough to say what he's done, what he wants to do, what he means to me. There are no words that'll ever capture that Mimi is someone I can't do without because he's a part of me, tethered and bound in ways the world will never understand.

His lips tremble, tongue curling against mine and hand slipping up, gripping tighter at soft, giving flesh and the softest whimper swallowed by my lips feverishly fusing to his. And my hands clutch at him tightly, grounding both him and me, chasing comfort and familiarity and the safety of knowing... this. We'll always have this bond, we'll always have us.

And the clothes are sodden and dripping from me, his own body warm as it continues to tilt to me, grip me tightly even as the scorching brand of his lips turn softer and lighter, gentler as they skim across skin, across my cheek and jaw, head coming to rest on my shoulder.

Cradling me until the water cools, until the waters still and the petals come to rest, until the tension's completely bled out of every line of his body and his breaths are softer. Relieved and quiet against my skin.

Voice a soft murmur.

"I... I hated Taehyung for ruining everything when you were so close to being free... but. But he found Chul, he got caught getting papers out against that monster... he was hurt for it. Hurt for wanting revenge for you... I can't... won't resent him for that." He admits quietly.

Voice tired and weary and ringing with understanding.

My fingers stop brushing through his hair, stop fiddling with the damp strands pressed against his nape.

A tight unconscious nervousness unravelling.

Both of them meant the world to me.

And here Mimi was trying to accept my other world. He'd already fiercely accepted and been happy for me when I'd found my happiness with Tae. And everything had unravelled... but this was him, this was him willing to extend an olive branch because he couldn't fault him for his intentions.

And the knowledge that Tae had gotten hurt because of Chul, that the injuries he'd sustained was because of the same monster who'd first taken me ten years ago... it made a new fury and hate and miserableness curl tightly.

And the blood in my veins to pulse numb and cold; a chilling ache seeping outwards.

"Sweetheart... stay with me. Chul can't hurt anyone again. We'll make sure of it." he whispers, hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing over skin and voice firm despite its gentleness.

We.

Him and Tae.

But not me... not me.

Never me again.

Never would my path ever wind up even veering near his again.

Because of Tae.

Because of Mimi.

I was free.

In ways more than one.

TAE POV:

There's a soaked figure standing at the doorway, clothes clinging to every line and curve and the tilt of her body slumped against the wood as she peers at me, a puddle forming where water continues to drip from the drenched skirts.

And behind her, brushing past with a squeeze to her waist and barely dressed is a robed figure who brushes by, smile softer and eyes lighter than I'd perhaps ever seen them as he moves towards Jin's armoire.

Tugs out clothes without question, voice soft as he calls out for (Y/N); tone tender in a way that's only reserved for her and Joon, something more in his words even without turning fully, still rummaging in the drawers.

And yet her eyes remain on me, holding mine as she smiles, moving away from the doorway and advances into the room, fingers slowly working the sodden fabric, grimacing at her struggle and steps slowly trailing in.

I lean up and away from the armchair's back, eyeing her with confusion, the soft wry smile curving at her lips makes my head tilt; gaze snagging and trailing slowly over her form, appreciative of the movement of her fingers tugging at the fabric as Jimin turns.

Spots her struggle before I can even cross the distance, something fond and warm in his eyes as he sets the clothes onto the bed and tugs her forward with a hand curled around her wrist, fingers moving easily to undo her bodice, loosening them for her with a familiarity that doesn't flare the usual possessive streak of jealousy, not when there's something heavy and unspoken and incredibly soft in the way their eyes briefly hold each other's. Unspoken understanding in the tilt of their bodies unconsciously gravitated close and the moments his hand lingers before he smiles gentler.

Softer and muted in some way and yet even from the distance I can see and feel how much unspoken feelings are in it.

And he ducks away to grab a change of clothes and leaves, door closing softly behind him.

Slowly her eyes drift back to mine, fingers now loosely undoing the lacings of her bodice, tugging off the sodden layers and peeling them off skin, discarded to the floor as she slowly tugs the dress off. Body still wet from the bath she'd steered Jimin towards, uncaring of the effect she has, the power she holds, confident and comfortable in her skin and under my eyes as she tilts her head to the drawers.

"Could you get me a towel?"

Standing still when I return, watching me wrap it around her, drawing her closer, lips brushing across her temple, skimming down to mark a path of kisses to her tilted lips, soft and slow and indulgent, feel her lips curve up as she presses back, warm and soft and gentle and yet so much in the fleeting moment.

And when she tilts back, grasps the ends of the towel and wraps herself, and watches my hands drop to her waist, draw her forward, she sinks into the embrace and murmurs quietly into my chest.

Head tilted as she leans against me.

"You never told me about Chul. You never told me your hurts were because of him. And so I didn't get to tell you... I didn't get to thank you or say how much it means to me and how much it terrifies me."

My arms tighten reflexively, throat closing briefly around nothing, body stiffening at the lurch of the mix of venom-hate-anger-hurt at the mention of the person who hurt her and used her when she was still a child, the one who'd set the bar high and put a price tag on her, condemned her to a life of being a commodity, of being Lim's caged bird, of her most glittering jewel she'd snared and hovered obsessively over.

"You weren't... not until... Jimin." Knowing that of course, of course the one person, the one person who deserved the same vengeance, the one who hungered for it more than I did, the one who had every right to ask when (Y/N) was curled between Jin and Joon and sleeping, face slightly smoothened out, that he wanted the location.

He needed to know where Chul was.

And he needed to do what the young boy couldn't do a decade ago.

And begin the agony, the reversed countdown of Chul's limited breaths, his limited days.

He had the most right, so when he'd asked—gritted teeth and blazing eyes and voice venomous and quiet as (Y/N) slept curled under Joon's protective arm, body sagged with fatigue and eyes shadowed. Dried tearstains still visible from the doorway before he'd tugged me away.

Eyes blazing and venomous hiss demanding to know what had me screw up royally, what had made everything fall apart.

And when Chul's name had slipped past my lips, uttered with an aching hate clawing at me from the inside out, I knew that what I thought of anger, hatred and resentment, what I knew of bitterness and cloying, suffocating nausea was nothing... nothing, insignificant in front of the haunting look scoured deep into Jimin's features.

Writing the address for him, carrying the silent knowledge that he knew too, knowing full well that he could go to him, was going to him when (Y/N) stayed with me, when she gripped my hand tightly in hers and sought to give comfort and find it in me, body tense as she waited, as we waited had a coil of tense apprehension wound tight around my lungs.

Unloosening when I saw Jimin leave the room, when I saw the unspoken meaning in the brief glance he'd spared my way before he left.

And hearing it uttered by her, voice shaky and quiet and fierce has protectiveness flaring, has my hands tightening on her waist as my lips brush across hers, slot together with aching apology and unspoken anguish that still, still he needed to pay.

That for her I wanted her world, her new beginning to start with the ties severed from the monsters who'd clung onto her still. That for her I wanted to tear apart the web and burn down every phantom, every monster to the ground.

If her new life began from the ashes of the lives who'd only ever taken from her, then so be it.

And her lips slot to mine with a feverish aching intensity, hands gripping me tightly, just as fiercely as I cling to her, body bracketing mine, the soft giving warmth of her curves pressing flush to me, hands cupping my cheeks, slipping to wind around my nape as she kisses me breathless. Kisses me until the ache and pain of my heart melds with the gratitude and shaky relief of hers, nose nudging against mine and tongue sweeping against my lips in plea to part, curving against mine and sweeping through the compliant parting of my mouth for her. fingers tugging lightly at my hair, breath shaky and muffled against me, the towel soft and her skin still damp and warm where she presses to me, where her arms wind around me.

"How long were you going to hide it?" she murmurs against my lips.

My hands tug her closer.

Nose brushing against hers.

"Maybe... when Chul wasn't going to ever be a threat again."

To anyone.

"And how long have you planned to confront him alone?"

"...since I found out his name, a definite when I found his papers." I murmur, admitting it quietly.

Her eyes flicker with surprise, slightly miffed and her body tilts to mine, forcing my own a step back, then another, nudged and steered towards the bed, hands slipping away to nudge me to sit, hands splayed across the loose shirt.

And there's no preamble as she swings her leg up to straddle me, towel parting to reveal the expanse of her bare thigh, weight settling on me and fingers entangling into my hair.

Kisses bruising, scalding presses as she grips me tightly, breaths shuddery and furious and eyes blazing with an inferno that makes my body sink slightly backwards, arms still wound around her.

"You stupid, reckless, brash fool Kim Taehyung." She mutters furiously, lips unrelenting and fierce against me, chiding and scolding and kisses brands between each word, each reprimand as her fingers tighten in my hair.

And I can do nothing more than to surrender to it, subject to her fierce blazing touch as she winds her legs around me, the press of her already swollen lips scorching and trailing heat to sear onto mine.

"How do you think it feels to know that the man I love decided to confront and got hurt by the very monster I loathe? And you didn't tell anyone, not me, not Jin... what if you'd been hurt more?"

Voice shaking with trembling upset, eyes shining and gleaming, pinning me under the weight of her stare, words raw and agonised.

"I'm sorry baby... I'm sorry... sweetheart I'm here. You got me out. And now... now things are working out. We'll find our way." I promise, lips softer and relenting, surrendering to the fierce heat of hers, her head tilted to mine and body curved close.

My hands skim from her waist to her thighs, squeezing tightly as I tug her closer, falling back whilst still clutching to her, body hitting the mattress and sheets and her hair damp and tickling as she leans forward, a startled huff of laughter before her expression softens.

Turns inexplicably tender.

And gentle.

Only seeing me, only choosing to see me.

"But from here on out. Everything we do, we'll do together. Everything I have, I am is yours." I vow, whispering the confession into her neck, lips brushing across skin.

Her fingers curl into the loose collar of the shirt, eyes holding mine.

A small smile curves at her lips, warm and sweet.

"Yours. And you're mine. And I swear Kim if you ever hide stuff from me I'll—" she threatens.

The sentence falling incomplete when my hand drifts to settle on her nape, tugging her forward to kiss her, grinning against her lips, mouths slotted together, my own bruising and hungering with a different simmering intensity that would gladly and willingly succumb to a lifetime of this, of just this, as my face tilts to hers. Hand sinking into unbound tresses and cradling her to me as I kiss her, lips soft and apologetic and promising against hers, chasing the sweet soft plush warmth of hers melding back with an intensity that won't ever quieten; that flares with a different need and promise shared between us.

I'll what remains incomplete between shared kisses that linger longer and longer, mapping each other out with an intimate familiarity that comes with months of losing ourselves to each other. Knowing full well what makes her breath shudder, the soft moan swallowed hungrily, muffled against the seam of my lips parting as my tongue presses for entrance, curls against hers and strokes deeply through her mouth in sweeping motions to relearn all over again.

Hands slipping and skimming across damp skin, drifting from her hair to her nape to the bare expanse of her shoulders and back, tracing circles whilst my fingers inch across her thigh, brushing gently across warm, soft skin, parted under my touch.

Forever.

Forever to love and cherish her.

Forever to learn.

Forever to be with her.

"How about we let me get some clothes on?" She murmurs, lips beautifully kiss-bitten red as she hovers over me.

My hand drags her closer, lips slotting to hers.

Softer and lighter.

"No. We can take mine off." I enthuse, lips curling up at the corners, her bubbly laugh teasing and amused as she pats my chest in consolation.

"Oh honey... that pretty body needs to heal perfectly before I let you near me again. I have ways to make my needs met, if I get desperate.", a lilted honeyed sweetness that's all tease and coy taunt and glinting eyes.

Unrepentant as she taps her finger against my lips.

"I can do that." I wheedle, hand curling into the towel hem to hold onto her.

But undeterred she steps away, lets my grip remain on the towel, lets it unravel; revealing teasing glimpses of her curves before she tugs it back to dry herself, bare form unhidden as she moves to the pile of clothes Jimin had left her.

Dresses herself into loose comfortable clothing.

"Not with those bandages you're not. Until I have a Namjoon and Jin bill of clean health for you, you'll have to resist temptation bandit." My eyes tracking the movement of fabric sliding over skin, hiding the briefly bared curves from sight once more, lacing the breeches in, clinging almost obscenely to her thighs and calves, shirt tugged down as she straightens it and fiddles with the sleeves.

"But of course... that doesn't mean I'll condemn you to the company of your hand alone." She croons before she steps away entirely, gathering the discarded towel and sodden clothes, eyes bright with an amusement that's been dulled and quietened for the past few days, flickering and rising in heady enthralling full force as she looks at me from the doorway.

My eyes flash to her, disgruntled pout falling away.

"Better if you rest up though. The quicker you heal, the quicker I might let you touch."

Before she vanishes past the doorway, and her ringing laughter leaves its phantom trail behind, tangible and warm and strong.

The centre force of gravity, the entirety of my world long since shifted to orbit and revolve around her, constantly drifting close, unable to veer far.

And even now that tug draws me up to follow the softness of her voice down the hallway and to the others.

My jewel.

-------------

A very different atmosphere clings to the carriage that shudders and rolls along the roads, weaving through town to get to the end of it, drawing us steadily closer and closer towards the accursed tavern where the animal who'd started (Y/N)'s pain was still being... kept.

The stony hardened expression carved harshly into the soft features of Jimin's features are struck with thunder, eyes blazing and posture tight.

He wasn't wearing the same silks and gleaming jewels he'd been wearing the day he'd arrived back at the house bloodied; if the discarded clothes were anything to go by.

Today there was a rough sharpness to his features paired by the thick-woven clothes, simple and sturdy, practical rather than fashionable.

"Ironically today I don't have something on my face... do you have something to say Kim?" Jimin's voice disturbs the silence, eyes slowly drifting away from the window to peer at me, body slouched but it doesn't hide the cagey energy thrumming in every limb, contained and waiting to be unleashed.

Eyes lazily examining me, skimming over my torso where the injuries had closed, leaving only the bruising and thin angry lines of red.

Healthy enough to set out with Jimin, but it'd been clear in Joon's eyes as he watched me, checked the dressings that even if he'd had said otherwise, I'd have gone with Jimin regardless.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. You had the most right."

The stoniness dissolves slightly from his eyes, the tight clamped hardness to his lips softening.

Eyes weary and angry but right now it didn't feel like it was directed to me.

"I did, I do. Because (Y/N) rightfully doesn't want her life to ever be near his again and I have debts to claim. But that doesn't mean you don't have any rights either Taehyung." Voice softer.

Still taut with tension, with the knowledge of just who he was going to see again.

"Did you at least make a mess of him?" I ask.

Surprisingly, it dissolves the hardness a bit further, something wicked and sharp and hungering in the curved smirk of his lips, in the flash in his eyes.

"Plenty. And I'm not the only one."

A vindictive, dark pleasure in his words, a carnal gleam that reminds me... truly tells me that under the beauty, under the fierce, unwavering love and protection to (Y/N), to Joon, there's a man aching to reciprocate the same hurt and anguish and torment (Y/N) had endured and suffered for. And that in its own way, this is for him too, to heal and overcome the pain he's nurtured and tried to overcome seeing her hurt and growing with her, knowing all the scars that lay underneath.

And it also means that I'm not the first to see Chul, I'm the last.

And undoubtedly Jin has already gone to see him, already paid a visit because the bond and protectiveness that extends over both (Y/N) and Jimin is fierce and unbreakable and unwavering; he's been with them almost as long as the ten years they've known and shared with each other.

And when the carriage comes to a halt, it's him who swings out first, pushing the door open and keeping it held ajar for me, head tilting to the roads that'll lead us to the tavern.

Voice conversational but thrumming with a tightness easily detected as he leads the way, directing me down to the back entrance, twisting the door open as he pushes his shoulder against the wood.

"I haven't seen the damage Jin rained down on Lim, but that can wait. That needs time to see its effects truly."

The air that hits me is stale and sour with a rancid stench that has my face twisting into a grimace, stepping behind Jimin and following him into the heart of the tavern.

The sight that greets me isn't near pitiful enough but it brings a spark of vicious pleasure to see the bound man curled and slumped over himself, the rancid stench of waste and puke clinging to air.

There's bruises colouring his skin, ugly vivid blotches of colour where the skin has broken or started to swell, dried blood smeared across the corner of his lip and chin. There's unrecognition as he looks at me, but fear when he looks at Jimin.

When his eyes settle on him, swollen shut and narrowed slits, and clench tightly as he tries to draw himself upright, body staggering and swaying as he moves away, stumbling as he drags his body back across the wood.

And delight sears Jimin's features with a carnal viciousness that sends a thrum of pride radiating through my spine.

Because Chul's face is mottled with bruises and discoloured and yet when he'd been drawing himself away, it's clear he's favouring a side, body hunched in on itself.

Wrists rubbed raw where the ropes stay binding him behind his back, ankles similarly tied.

This is a man whose only begun to learn what pain means.

"Miss me?" Jimin crows, jaw hardened as he stares at the man, takes the steps forward.

And in this moment he towers over Chul's half-kneeled form, grimacing with distaste when the man's words slur.

Stumbling away.

"Please leave me alone... leave me alone. Just go... take whatever you want and go." Voice a raspy begging plea.

The words stir me into motion, boots clacking against the wood, avoiding the mess as I circle round, drop down behind him, fingers plucking loosely at the ropes; marvelling at how well they stay before I wrench his arms back tighter, voice a sharp hiss as I look at him... truly look at him.

And let myself see... let myself know... this is the man who made a child scream and beg for mercy and he'd shown her none. He'd shown none of the children he'd taken any mercy.

He'd squandered wealth and poured all into fuelling his carnal desires, his perverse want for the young and unbroken.

And he's taken vicious pleasure in being the one to break them, to toy with their bodies and damage them beyond repair; scars and wounds that would perhaps forever linger and mar their bodies with the touch of his vile hands.

I eye the same hands now, disgust pulsing through me and the press of a cold blade against his knuckles has him stiffening, head spinning to me.

Fear and horror palpable in his grimy features.

Time did not do you well Chul.

And neither will I.

Feel my fingers stain with the hot trickle of blood when my blade cuts across the band of rope, easily piercing skin, sliding home as I drag two cuts across flesh; eyes dropping down to the sight.

Hurting the same hands that had hurt so many, had spent hours hurting and forcing my (Y/N) to take, to be hurt for the sake of his pleasure.

The sharp cry does nothing to appease the violent hunger to make him pay.

"I thought your blood would've been filthy." I muse. Hands carelessly wiping the smears across his fabric, watching the blood stain the ropes.

How many shackles had he bound? How many nooses had he helped pay for?

And not one... not one would he remember.

"Do you still not know who I am Chul? And here I thought we were at least acquaintances." Jimin sighs, despondent tone and eyes faux-sympathetic.

Chul could wrack his brain all he wanted, he simply wouldn't place Jimin as the boy who'd rushed to shield (Y/N). Wouldn't place the haunting beauty now twisted and hardened with grief and venom.

Ten years Jimin had committed his face to memory.

And now finally... finally the tables turned.

And it was in his favour.

My blade, slightly slippery with the copper tang of crimson, moves to rest against his throat, pressing sharply against the nervous bobbing as he swallows. Sucks in a sharp breath.

"I swear I don't... if I did something wrong I'm sorry... just let me go."

The lack of recognition only serves to fuel the simmering rage that bursts as it spills out in an angry snarl, in the tight bruising grip of a hand wrenching his face to look upwards, fingers digging in tightly.

"Just something? How about buying children for years? How about paying fortunes to have your hands, your body be the ones to hurt and torture them?"

His face blanches, loses whatever sickly colour he has and I turn my head to him, the words spilling out in a venomous torrent.

Nothing will ever be enough, nothing will ever surmount to what he did to (Y/N) alone.

Nothing will ever atone for it.

Lessen her hurt, lessen Jimin's.

Won't lessen that he was the reason her life at the brothel, her being sold had started by immediately being dragged to the depths of hell.

"You don't remember a single face." The mirthful laughter is hollow and brittle.

And I see a side of Jimin, I see the shadows and phantoms and haunts cling to him in this instant. A side that perhaps he's never let (Y/N) see, never plans to let her see.

But it fills me with comfort in this horror; that I'm not the only one to end a monster I won't hold back from dirtying my hands, from becoming somewhat of a monster myself.

"Not one."

Confusion morphs through the terror, chips at his blanched fear.

"This is all for some two-bit whores?"

The blade presses deeper, angling into skin and cutting into his throat; blood spilling over the gleaming metal, trickling down his neck and staining the blade and my fingertips, hand curled tight around the hilt.

Pressing deeper at his words, the clear blatant disregard stokes the inferno to blaze hotter and unquenchable, blade cutting through his throat; nowhere near enough to kill, not yet... not this easily.

He'll beg for death when it's all over.

And even then it's a mercy he won't get. Not easily.

And the grip from his face drops to curl around his throat, a band of fingers squeezing tightly, blood spilling further at the pressure as my blade falls away, as Jimin's hand replaces the touch with just as much threat.

"This two-bit whore could suffocate you and not leave marks, this whore could and will make every single moment hurt. But I suppose you never thought that an unchained, free, two-bit prostitute would ever be saying that to the man who funded half of Lim's empire."

Jimin hisses, voice steeped with poison, eyes lost in his anguish, in his hatred that melds to his flesh and bones, that's intertwined and fused with the blood in his veins and the hammering, violent pulse of his heartbeat.

There's nothing more I want to tear out Chul's eyes off him, to protect him with an unwavering fierceness that I feel in the same likeliness to (Y/N). Because there's the same broken hurt and phantoms etched in his face that shouldn't be there, haunt on a face far too young.

And yet every inch of his pain is justified, spills out in ugly, roaring waves, even if the venom threatens to drag him into the depths too if he's not careful.

For (Y/N), but for him too. Because Chul is one face of many, he's one monster amongst the masses, he's one filth amongst a town that teems with depravity and horror and animals wearing human skin.

And there's a roaring inferno searing under my skin, lighting paths through my veins as I feel blood dampen my fingers, as I fist his head back to angle his throat under Jimin's bruising grip.

I want to see every breath escape, I want to see him hurt, want Chul to know that even a decade overdue... his doing, his wrongs, his sins will come back to claim their debt.

"She was never a whore. She was a child. And you broke her body." I grit.

The breaths are weak and shuddery, strangled and hoarse and the weak grip as he scrabbles to remove the iron-clad palm splayed threateningly over his throat, suffocating and bitter.

"You never lost one night's worth of sleep and she lost months."

My throat tightens, agony forming a lump that blocks out breath, makes every inhale painful and shaky.

A child.

A child... she was fifteen.

At fifteen I was shunned and hated and a stranger living in the Kim estate but I'd had a secure roof over my head and I hadn't been threatened to earn my livelihood at the cost of selling flesh and bones not even developed into the person I'd grow to be one day.

At fifteen our lives had been universes apart.

And I'd always felt pitifully miserable about my fate. Not knowing in the same town, treading the same space and suffering for every breath was her. And the man I'd hated and resented was still worlds apart from the monster who feasted on child flesh for his depraved desires.

Fifteen.

I'd never forgive Chul, even long since after he breathed his last. I'd hurt for (Y/N) and the childhood she'd lost and the life she'd never gotten to live and get back.

The cries are garbled and hoarse.

Strangled where he can't form words and excuses that would never justify what he's done.

The fierce sting of furious tears in the corner of Jimin's eyes are imbued with a grief that perhaps with this will slightly abate, slightly be settled and mourned and left to rest.

And I realise that whilst I hunted Chul for (Y/N)'s sake, I will hurt him for both her and Jimin.

The hand slips away from Chul's throat and is wiped with disdain across fabric, dragging his palm across his thigh as if to scour the memory of his skin away.

"Look at you... how does it feel to be tied and left to rot in your own waste... do you even think that anyone will weep for you? A father who doesn't need his son squandering his wealth, a mother who won't recognise your rotting carcass. You're no-one Chul. And you won't be mourned. Your death will be celebrated." I murmur, voice featherlight as I lean in to share the secret, share the truth to him.

Relish in the broken sob that tears past his lips.

Forgotten.

Alone.

Miserable.

"If I wasn't so set on seeing this place go up in flames I'd hold an open-bar here for the town." Jimin hisses before he shoves himself away, drawing away from the revolting sight.

Turns his simmering anger away before he plunges the same dagger I hold into his heart, into the cavity of the space where a heart rather should be. Because despite it all... despite the monster it'll make me, make of us—Chul doesn't get an out so easily. And I won't lose a night's sleep knowing he's gone.

I let my hand go, let his body teeter back, hitting the floor with a thunk, weak and slumped. Eyes hazed, no longer with alcohol, but glazed with fear and nausea and pain.

Tug myself upright and move to stand by Jimin's turned figure, unsurprised but hurting for him nonetheless when I see the furious tears trickling down his cheeks, body stiff and fingers curled into fists, angled away from the monster behind us.

"You can step out... I don't blame you. Somehow even like this... he makes my skin crawl."

My hand settles on the low of his back, voice quieter.

"Jimin do you need to leave? Go back?"

He shakes his head immediately, face stony and yet there's no hiding the storm of emotions drowning him so clearly.

"Even now... he doesn't care. He needs to hurt at least."

Voice trembling.

My heart aches for the man in front of me, and the child who tried his best, did do his best and the two of them drew each other out of the dark, from crumbling, from suffocating in Lim's web.

And we can only tear the snares further, free her so when she now gets to live her own life, it's unburdened of her past as much as possible. It's free from the people who hurt her most and fate has turned full cycle to give her all the happiness and them all the misery.

And I'll stay by him. Stay by (Y/N).

And uncaring of the shuddering rasps, the rough groans behind us, kneeled pathetically and grovelling for a life he won't get... I find that maybe... maybe Jimin and I are more alike than either of us acknowledged.

And for (Y/N) we'd go to hell and back.

We'd raise hell on earth.

Whatever it took... whatever it cost.

But (Y/N) wouldn't hurt anymore. She wouldn't ever hurt again.

----------

For all that I'd feared I'd have to restrain Jimin, forcefully tug him back, I barely hear the low call of my name, barely hear it over the grunts of pain and my own laboured breathing. Barely feel his arm winding around my waist to forcefully tug me back, tugging me away and hand curling around my bruised knuckles, numb enough that his tight grip is barely processed.

"Taehyung calm down. You're just hurting yourself at this point, he's out."

My breaths run ragged, lungs burning with a fury, his words still ringing in my ears.

His contempt and hatred and uncaring slurred words even as his breaths trembled for reprieve.

"He called you a broodmare whore. He called her a broodmare whore only fit for being bent over and bred." I grit.

"And he doesn't even remember her. He doesn't deserve to know her, to have her in his twisted head... but how am I not meant to gut him open?"

Hand trembling where his unrelentingly clutches at mine, draws it away and tugs me from the sight of the bloodied, beaten mess, his body limp.

"I want nothing more. But he doesn't get it that easy. Not when that first night he didn't spare her a second rest. He gets nothing but hell. And in abundance." He vows, voice tight and when I slowly let my eyes tear away from the sight, the pressure in my lungs near suffocating, steps stumbling.

But he steadies me easily, voice rough and quiet and still comforting somehow.

"Tae breathe. You don't just have today."

But I didn't know how much I could hold back before I became a monster for (Y/N)'s sake. And yet I knew, knew that it was a line that neither of us wanted to cross.

He was inhumane, he was the monster.

But sullying our hands weren't the same as hurting the way he did.

And yet it was a distinction the two of us teetered very carefully, very consciously across.

Because never would we become even a shred of what the slumped figure was.

His words and venom slurred and still ringing in the air between us.

Taut with tension and anger that only mounted.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Not just today... not just today.

"I want him and Lim to break. I'll breathe properly when they're suffering."

His hand squeezes my wrist, grief and hurt etched deep in his face.

Voice quiet.

"Now you know why for her... for her I'll be the worst. For her... if it didn't go well, I'd have taken her and vanished." A soft hushed confession.

But it's one that doesn't faze me, doesn't stir the anxious gnawing of panic and terror as I thought it would. Because overriding it, is this fierce knowledge that if things had gotten bad, he'd have gotten her out.

He'd have made sure she was safe whilst I tied up loose ends.

He had her back.

And so in that way, he had mine.

And it's only when we're safely out, away from the bitterness and physical vicinity of Chul that I draw in a large breath, lungs trembling around the inhale as I snag his wrist.

Watch Jimin turn to face me.

Eyes holding mine unwaveringly.

"Thank you. Thank you Jimin."

His face softens.

Chips away at the hardened stony expression, morphing into something lighter, something warmer.

"Any time Tae."

For her.

But this time... for me too.

(AND SCENE! SURPRISE @MIDIIPLIER A LONG LONG OVERDUE CHAPTER AFTER ALL YOUR HARD WORK~ MY LOVES WE HAD ANGST BUT KNOW IT'S ALL UP FROM HERE!! I HAVE STUFF PLANNED~ AND IT'S DEVASTATING TO SAY BUT THIS IS SLOWLY WINDING TO ITS END, AND IT BREAKS MY HEART COS IT ALWAYS HURTS TO SEE A STORY END! HOWEVER!! NOT YET~ SO STILL GOT SOMETHING UP MY SLEEVE ;) HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! AND THE ICE THAWS FROM MIMI FOR TAE!!)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3